


Heart Failure

by dovingbird



Series: One Simple Change [1]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he could think about right then, right at that moment, was just how fucked up everything was. Part of my "One Simple Change" series, where each story was written week-to-week as the S11 episodes premiered. Rated for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Failure

All he could think about right then, right at that moment, was just how fucked up everything was.  
  
He stared at the two on the far end of the stage. They were shrinking into themselves, pretending that this wild ride wasn't almost over for one of them, acting like they didn't care about anyone else but themselves, that if someone else got the cut they wouldn't give a damn. But he knew differently. They cared. They all cared.  
  
He was starting to realize how much caring really fucking sucked.  
  
"Would Elise and Phil make their way to the center of the stage?"  
  
It was one of them. They always pulled this shit with him. They stuck him with his friend - no, his _brother_ \- right here and made him realize with growing horror what was about to happen. It was that soul-wrenching feeling that still made him twist and turn in his sheets every night, head aching and heartbreaking images rolling past his mind's eye. Sleep was hard now. Damn, it was almost impossible. The others were starting to get annoyed about the constant guitar picking from his room at two or three in the morning.  
  
He caught Hollie's steady gaze as he walked across the stage, his hands clenching and his arms shaking. She frowned in sympathy. She'd always had a sympathetic heart. She could tell right now, looking into his eyes, how much he hated the world, how much he wanted to strangle Ryan Fucking Seacrest for continuing to put him here, and just how loud that guitar would be playing all night long if this happened the way it looked like it would.  
  
See, he knew what was about to go down. He was a good old boy: humble, Southern, respectful...but that didn't change the situation right in front of them. He kicked ass. He was cute. As hard as it was for him to wrap his head around, he probably had some weird legion of teenaged girl fans that faithfully voted for him every week for his good looks alone, much to Hannah's quiet chagrin. He had a lot going for him. And Elise...he glanced toward the back of her head, taking in the glossy, blonde curls. She was beautiful, stunningly so. She had a voice that could rock the ages. But it wasn't enough. And he knew it wasn't.  
  
For the second time, they were putting him with his rock right in the center of the stage with the awareness that he was the one who would get off scot-free.  
  
He never really meant for her to be his rock. That much he could admit. It was always Heejun. It was Heejun that he could rant to for hours about the bastards in the studio, that he could joke around with to cool his jets, that he found himself telling some of his deepest secrets to within three weeks of the competition. Heejun was his brother. He was his sanity. And so he always sort of ignored the fact that eventually, unless something changed, Heejun was going to be ripped away from him. Honestly, he had expected it to be sooner. He'd gotten soft in his waiting. He'd forgotten the sharpness of the competition until that fateful night just a week ago where he'd had to tell him goodbye.  
  
He'd stayed on that stage as long as he could. He'd pulled him into a bear hug, and then he'd lingered on the sidelines, watching the scene play out before him. That's what it was: just a scene. Those judges knew the cameras were rolling. They could act all sweet and nice and 'oh we would've saved you if we could but we couldn't.' Bastards. He'd seen Heejun take in everything gracefully even though all his brother wanted to do was go hide in the back and pretend his dreams hadn't just dissolved in front of his eyes.  
  
"Hey."  
  
He'd glanced toward Elise, feeling the growl in her voice wash over him. It was so much like his own. In a strange way it was actually soothing.  
  
She'd touched his wrist, tentatively at first, before she squeezed it and rubbed his arm in sympathy. She didn't need to say anything else. She'd understood. He'd looked down.  
  
He couldn't stay out there. People kept coming up to him, offering their sympathies, asking if he was going to be okay, and it was suffocating him. He was going to choke and die right there on stage in front of hundreds of people and he couldn't do that. He was stronger than that. He was supposed to be a man.  
  
He'd felt a distinct burning right behind his eyes and, without a word to anyone, he'd torn away from them, storming away and hoping he'd be able to find some solace somewhere. He hadn't cared where as long as he was alone.  
  
"Phil! Hey, Phil!" That same gravely voice right behind him. He'd flinched and kept walking, but she'd been fast. She was beside him within moments, just walking there, not saying a word. He'd felt her watching him, but his legs were still burning and every muscle was tensing and he had to get away before she could see what he was holding in.  
  
He'd made it backstage before she'd swept in front of him, her hair frizzing around her head into a golden halo, a force to be reckoned with in every way, and damn it all if he hadn't pulled her close and cried like a baby right into her shoulder.  
  
She'd understood. She'd gotten it. Hollie might have that sympathetic eye, but Elise had a soul so similar to his own. He'd laid away in bed that night, his fingers brushing his cell phone in a desire to text Hannah, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what he wanted to say about his night. He'd said it all to Elise.  
  
He came back to the present in a rush when he nearly slammed into Elise's back at the center of the stage, and he turned obligatorily to face the crowd. So many nameless faces. So many people he would never know or give a shit about. And they got to watch him have a breakdown on stage for the second time in so many weeks.  
  
He tucked his arm around Elise's waist, fitting his hand neatly against her curvy hip, and heaved a heavy sigh. They rolled the tape behind them and, at first, they didn't look. She leaned her head close to him with a smile. "Don't look so sour," she whispered, tilting her head to the side.  
  
He met her eyes, but didn't smile back. His heart was beginning that breaking process, one ventricle by one.  
  
They watched that clip roll, but he didn't take anything in, not even Jimmy's criticism. He was only aware of Elise sliding her hand around his side as well, giving him a little squeeze of solidarity. She was solid. She had always been solid. She was that wall that protected him seven days ago, and now she was being it again even though she already knew her fate.  
  
Ryan said some words. Elise said some words. He said some words too. He didn't really understand any of them. They were just sounds. All meaningless fucking sounds. He couldn't say the words that he really wanted to, not now. Not when the lights were going down. He glanced toward her. She had her head ducked into her chest, like she was about to get in an accident, and he followed suit. One ventricle slowly stopped pumping. He couldn't breathe.  
  
Ryan was talking again. He couldn't follow him. But his ears craned and ached for one word, just one word..."I'm sorry..."  
  
He didn't even think. He pulled Elise into a suffocating embrace, his fingers nearly bruising her shoulders. He wanted to hold her there. He wanted to whisper fervently in her ear, "Don't go, goddamnit, don't you dare go over there, don't let them do this to me all over again, not with you." But she beat him to it. She whispered, "It's okay."  
  
She didn't get it. It wasn't okay at ALL. Didn't she feel even HALF the stuff that he felt for her? His brother was gone. He'd replaced him with a sister. If she was eliminated, who the hell was he gonna have left?!  
  
But he met her eyes, and she was smiling again, just slightly, just enough to quirk her lips, just enough that it didn't even reach her eyes. And so he dipped his head in a nod. He backed away for the first few steps, watching her walk, watching her dress billow around her body, before that choking came back and he had to desperately turn to walk to his seat, hoping that with his back to her he could forget.  
  
He sat. He watched. His second ventricle slowly began to shut down. Maybe this time he'd be lucky. Maybe this time he'd die.


End file.
